The Spartans, the Guardians, and Hoorah!

What is it with some of our government officials anyway? Do they go right out after election and have an affair of some sort? They can’t even do that right either.

Okay, okay, I’ll give you that JFK did the same thing only nobody reported it.

Just wondering.

* * *

I hate it when they rank the Michigan State Spartan football team in the top twenty-five. They went into last Saturday’s game with Northwestern ranked twenty-three in the nation. On top of that, Northwestern hadn’t lost a game this year. I could see an upset coming.

So what happened? The Spartans won, and we all breathed a sigh of relief because the jinx had been put on hold for another week.

It doesn’t get any easier because Ohio State comes to East Lansing Saturday to play the Spartans who are now ranked twentieth in the nation.

I’ll keep my fingers and toes crossed (that isn’t easy) during the game knowing full well that we’re only one loss away from being dropped from the top twenty-five.

* * *

There are 435 of them in the House of Representatives, 100 of them in the Senate, 9 on the Supreme Court, and 1 in the White House. Who are these people? They’re the guardians of our Federal government. How are they doing? Take a look around. Things don’t look so good, do they?

Just once I wish we could quit sending these same old tired faces back to Congress and really let them know we want a change.

This has been a difficult presidential election process for a lot of us. It has lasted too long, cost too much money, and isn’t regulated enough. So who do we choose? Where’s all the campaign money coming from? Are they lying to us even before they get in office? We know they’ll lie to us afterwards.

I’m not voting for McCain because he scares the hell out of me. I’m not voting for Obama because he scares the hell out of me too. The reasons vary, but one thing does stand out. I don’t trust them.

So how do I handle this? After double-checking to make sure my vote for President won’t void the rest of my ballot, I’ll write my name in. It’s a protest vote, and although it won’t count and not many people will know — I will know.

* * *

So what’s my take on the show Extreme Makeover Home Edition? I guess I don’t understand it. Yeah I know, the show is going after good ratings; otherwise they won’t survive on TV. But is what they’re doing right?

They tore a 140 year old brick house down and replaced it with a multi-gable house with many rooms which is an overkill on the kind of house a mother with three kids actually needed. What ever happened to a nice little ranch house or even a Cape Cod house?

As for the increased property taxes, I’ve heard a fund is set up to pay them. I’ve also read that those who got a major makeover to their home are being advised to refinance it to take advantage of the equity they just acquired. This increase in equity helps pay the bills, they are told. And then I read about foreclosures on some of these homes because the owner couldn’t afford the home anymore. If that is true, the show isn’t all that great.

I’m still wondering how a family owes $140,000 on a home that was apparently falling down.

* * *

I’m still waiting for somebody to buy the old Federal-Mogul building. If it was my decision, I’d sell the building for $1 just to get out from under it. They would still have to keep any pollution liabilities.

I see a lot of people who are tied to Federal-Mogul one way or another, and of course the conversation might involve a relative of theirs that used to work there.

* * *

I’m well into the book, Lone Survivor. The author just went through what they called, "Hell Week." They’re in the water, and then they’re out crawling in the sand. They do this several times and in between they do push ‘em outs. They carry boats in, and carry them out, and in between that they paddled them all over North America. Then they’d have to carry logs into the water and back out again.

The logs apparently represented the weight of the luggage you’re not allowed to carry on a plane anymore.

My Hell Week would have been day one. When somebody comes in at 0300 hours (3:00 a.m. to us civilians) and rousts my butt out of bed — I’m all done right there. Mine would have been the first helmet placed on the ground next to the officer’s door signifying that I quit.

I can just see it now — a letter to my next of kin from the Navy saying, "We regret to inform you that we think we broke ol’ bauer."

Until the next time . . .